


Fighting our Demons

by imbadatlove



Category: Call of Duty
Genre: Character Study, Emotions, Hurt/Comfort, It’s just more of a realistic setting, Kinda non-canon?, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Nightmares, Polyamory Relationship, Recovery, There are so many ships in this fandom I'm doing a poly so I can please everyone, Trauma, primis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2020-01-24 04:23:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18563848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imbadatlove/pseuds/imbadatlove
Summary: Primis; a group of four, young individuals that pull together to try and save their universe from being forever inhabited by living corpses. They started as enemies, but as they travelled, they became friends. That friendship acts as the glue which holds them together.But that glue between them is fragile, all it takes is one of them to break, and the rest will crumble.How can you fix a multiverse when you can’t fix your own mind?





	1. Nightmares

Dempsey couldn’t sleep.

Normally, the strong-willed American was the first to pass out from exhaustion among his teammates—not caring whether he landed on a mattress or stark concrete—eager to let the sweet grasp of sleep envelope him and whisk him away to a land without zombies. As of lately however, this insomnia was becoming a common occurrence in his day to day life, and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t beginning to affect him. 

Tank Dempsey was not trained to be weak; he was tough and carried the weight of the world on his shoulders with a smug grin. He helped his comrades and would fight to his last dying breath. But now?

Now, his aim was starting to falter, his hands shaking too badly to be able to maintain a stable grasp of his weapon, his eyes fighting to slip closed whenever a horde was on top of him and his team, his feet dragging in the dirt and threatening to collapse under him as he scrambled away from a group of mindless corpses. He was wasting ammo, taking more hits than usual, becoming more tired. 

It’d all started back at that goddamn castle. 

When Richtofen forced him to kill his other self. 

Ever since that dreaded day, Tank had been a different man, in a good and bad way. On the positive side, it had allowed him to become a more open-minded and introspective individual—he had gone from a man who took life easily to a person who now valued it and tried to see the beauty in the flaws around him. 

Yet he was now filled with such an immense amount of _guilt_ and _regret_ , it was starting to consume his mind. 

Whenever he closed his eyes, he was back at that castle, the snow flurrying around him and burying his feet in a thick white substance, staring down at his unconscious older self trapped inside a cryogenic pod, now burdened with the task of _killing_ him. All for a sick and twisted plan he knew absolutely nothing about, but was made to obey. 

They may be the same person of different ages, but that Dempsey still had a life to live, still had his own crew and universe to save. He killed the only other person in this fucked up world that would actually understand how he felt and wouldn’t judge him for his feelings or actions no matter what. Ending him peacefully gave him a lot of time to reflect on the world around him, and it begged the simple question: why? 

Why was he following Richtofen’s plan? Why was he still fighting? Why did he believe every word that came out of his comrade’s mouth? 

Why was he still alive? 

Dempsey forced a sigh, dragging a hand down his face as he tried to will these negative thoughts away. He hated the deafening silence that accompanied the night. When it was quiet, the marine was more susceptible to his deep and dark thoughts, that’s why he was always loud and shouting something insulting to the zombies, it distracted his broken mind from letting these questions sway his sanity. 

With nobody around to talk to however, he was forced to pay attention to them. That, or actually try to get some rest, rather than sitting up and pondering his thoughts.

That was a problem too, though. Every time he would let his eyes slip closed and allow himself to enter the dream state he once craved, he was cast into a dark place. A place without happiness, without reflection, without a sense of sanity. A place that gained pleasure from watching him squirm as his worst memories and fears were displayed right infront of him. It captured him in its grasp and forced him to relive every painful memory. There was no escape from it, until one of his comrades shook him awake because of his thrashing. 

He couldn’t recall having a peaceful night’s sleep in months. Dempsey tried to convince his friends he wasn’t tired every single night, and promised he would watch for zombies while they slept; yet his comrades always saw through to his tired eyes and exasperated tone, insisting he should sleep. Arguing about it was futile.

So he tried staying up all night, but sleep always overcame him within the first hour. His conscious mind would become tired of fighting back, and eventually he would fall right back into the shadows of his mind. 

Tonight was no different. 

Languidly, he rubbed at his eyes, praying to the God he didn’t believe in that he could keep them open just for a little while longer. It was exhausting him just trying to fight against his body’s wishes, and he fell into the void of unconsciousness, no matter how much he tried to stop it. 

_His eyes opened again to a world he didn’t recognise. He was no longer hiding out in a bunker with his teammates around him, he was somewhere completely different. An open field, or a deserted battlefield, it was hard to identify where he was, all he could see was the thick, blinding fog that disrupted his vision and clouded his thoughts._

_The dimension he now inhabited was dark and tainted, a black sky coated the atmosphere as speckles of crimson painted the ground beneath him. He felt a light pressure hit his shoulder suddenly and he looked up, seeing the black sky start to drip with the thick, sticky red liquid, pelting his very form with it, drenching him in red, making him the colour of blood itself._

_Marines aren’t afraid of blood. They aren’t squeamish. They thrive in it, they live in it._

_It didn’t bother him._

_The only sound he could hear was the loud tapping of blood hitting his body, until it stopped. In an instant, the world was filled with an eerie silence, which only reinforced the realisation that he was completely and utterly alone. Isolated from the real world, trapped in a solitary away from his friends, the only people keeping him sane. He didn’t crave their company however, he craved something, anything, that made him feel alive._

_The blood poured down once again._

_His feet moved instinctively along the blood bathed ground, he wasn’t in control of his movements. The very fibres of his body twitched and spasmed with every step, trying to prevent himself from travelling further and deeper into the fog that surrounded him._

_The fog seeped into his lungs like they were fumes from a burning fire, suffocating him and causing him to breathe heavily, making him feel light-headed. It infested his oesophagus, trapping any remaining oxygen he tried to inhale in a panic, filling his failing lungs up with a soot he couldn’t cough up no matter how hard he tried. It felt like someone had their hands wrapped around his throat and was squeezing as hard as they could, his veins bulging out from the intensified pressure, his eyes trying to roll back into his head._

_He felt weak. Every limb and muscle ached, his heart was pounding out of his chest, his skin was an unnatural and concerning pale, he looked like a victim of a severe illness. He finally succumbed to the pain, his knees crashing into the floor, his hands reaching out blindly to grab the ground around him and dig his nails in, trying to stabilise his shaking form. The scarlet coloured mud painted his gloved fingertips in blood, making his hands look like he’d just beaten someone to death. He felt vile as he wretched and gagged and gasped in gulps of air._

_Blood was the only type of phloem to leave his mouth. When he started throwing the fluid up, he couldn’t stop. It continued to climb up his throat in litres, threatening to choke him if he couldn’t get all of it out. His jaw felt numb and went slack as he painted the ground in his own blood. He was dying._

_Dempsey didn’t want to die. Not like this._

_He looked up desperately towards the black heavens, hoping to see some sort of indication of a God that could save him from this fate. The American began inhaling and exhaling rapidly, his heart drumming in his ears loudly, his chest constricting around his ribs and lungs, crushing them together and making it even harder to breathe. He didn’t want to die._

_His body collided with the dead earth below him._

_A dark shadow loomed over him, his ominous presence was the only sense Dempsey could now feel. There was no pain, no feeling, except for the danger that now surrounded the shadow looking down on him. The last droplet of blood leaked from his agape mouth._

_The world around him faded into nothingness, along with his broken and shattered mind._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dempsey’s the first one to suffer. Oops. 
> 
> The chapters will get progressively longer in this story, and I will go in depth with each character. There will also be action with the zombies etc etc, but it does focus on heavy topics which I will include warnings for in the notes at the beginning if I need to. 
> 
> Honestly, I just need to contribute to this amazing fandom. I’ve been in it for years and I want to write something with them in. 
> 
> I don’t plan on this fic being insanely long, but we’ll see.


	2. Concern

Dempsey suddenly bolted upright when he felt a hand grip his shoulder and give a light but firm shake, fearing that the shadow in his dream was the one touching him. His chest heaved as he leaned on his hand to stabilise his shaking form, glancing around the room wildly. He wasn’t surrounded by fog or gazing up into a sea of red rain, he was in the bunker, the holes in the walls allowing the tiniest bit of light to shine through, indicating it was morning. Once he regained his composure, his eyes landed on his comrade kneeling down beside him, Takeo. He was the one who had awoken him, not some phantasmal monster. It seemed he was the only other one awake, Nikolai and Richtofen slept quietly a few metres away from them. 

Takeo eyed him, concerned, as he withdrew his hand from the marine’s shoulder.  With a dismissive wave of his hand, Tank got to his feet and took quick strides to the other side of the room where they had placed their weapons. He picked up his pistol and started to fiddle with it; flicking the safety on and off, cleaning the barrel of it, anything to distract him from the horrific nightmare he’d just endured. 

Takeo’s eyes followed him, and he cautiously approached again, "Is this becoming a habit, Dempsey?" He questioned. The warrior didn’t want Dempsey to feel like he didn’t have anyone to go to about his experiences, although he knew how prideful he was and how secretive he could be. Tank didn’t want people worrying over him, he wanted to be strong for his friends so they could get through the terrible world they thrive in. If one of them breaks, they’d all crumble. Thus he tried to cater to his problems himself, even though the company of another person might just be what he needs.

The marine’s eyes left his weapon to gaze into Takeo’s warm brown ones, muttering under his breath, "I don’t know what you’re talking about, Tak." His tone wavered ever so slightly—had he not been paying attention to Dempsey intently, he would’ve missed it completely. 

"Your mind seems troubled at night, it appears that you are unable to rest peacefully during these hours. I can recall numerous other times where one of us have awoken you because of your clear distress and unease," The warrior explained, "It is important to talk about your problems, as they are clearly preventing you from sleeping. Your mind cannot be at peace until you rid it of these thoughts."

Tank sighed, Takeo was right, he always was. He didn’t want to let his pride die just yet though, "I’m just having some trouble sleeping, that’s all. There’s nothin’ wrong, don’t worry yourself about it." His tone was distant and unconcerned, like he was detached from reality, his eyes were devoid of all the light that once inhabited them, replaced with an empty seriousness. 

Takeo frowned at him, he didn’t want to see the strong American he once knew reduced to this hollow shell of a man. He chose not to push him on the matter however, not wanting to risk the possibility of angering or upsetting Dempsey. He was a secluded man who didn’t like the topic of feelings and Takeo would respect that for now. With an understanding nod, the Japanese soldier left Tank alone and headed towards a loudly snoring Nikolai to wake him up. Maybe he could talk to Dempsey, they seemed to have a good bond, and if anyone could make the American smile or laugh, it was him.

Gently at first, Takeo shook Nikolai’s shoulder in an attempt to rouse him out of his slumber but he made little to no progress, the only response he got was a grumble and a snore. The Russian really was a sleeping bear, the warrior was adamant he’d sleep through just about anything. Growing irritated quickly, Takeo grabbed both the man’s forearms and shook him harder, all the while calling out Nikolai's name. 

Nikolai groaned as he awakened, "Is Nikolai not allowed to get his beauty sleep?" He mumbled, gradually manoeuvring himself into a seating position as he yawned. Takeo gave him an amused smile.

"I apologise, Russian, but we have work to do today." He responded, moving away from him and turning towards Dempsey again. He was staring at the wall blankly, deep in thought, and seemed to be unresponsive towards his surroundings and companions. His fingers were twitching around his pistol, shaking as he placed them on the trigger, examining the shape of it, reminding himself of the familiarity he shared with it. He hated it. 

Takeo and Nikolai shared a questioning look.  

"Dempsey?" The American’s eyes suddenly snapped to meet Takeo’s, embarrassed he had been caught so out of reality, "Could you wake Richtofen up?" 

With a small but curt nod, Dempsey moved towards Richtofen and was a lot less friendly than Takeo had been when he was waking up their Russian comrade. He gave the doctor a light kick in the ribs with just enough force to awaken him but not hurt him.

Richtofen whined as he was forcibly awoken, glaring daggers up at Dempsey as he pushed the man’s boot away from him. Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, he spoke, "Mein Gott, Dempsey, you don’t have to be so aggressive. A simple ‘wake up’ would’ve sufficed, danke."

Tank turned away from him with a shrug, "It worked, didn’t it?" He retreated towards the table on the opposite side of the room, sitting on it and crossing his arms over his chest. 

Edward was surprised by his reply and body language, normally the American soldier would’ve been amused knowing he’d succeeded in annoying Richtofen, but he didn’t seem to care. The German thought he’d enjoy this side of Dempsey before, but all it did was unnerve him now he was experiencing it. Where was his eager grin to kill the undead? Why wasn’t he cracking any jokes with Nikolai and Takeo? Why was he acting so strangely? 

Richtofen’s eyes met Takeo’s, as if to question if he knew something. 

He decided to let it slide, maybe Dempsey was just moodier than usual today; the doctor already had enough to worry about, with saving the universe and all. 

"Gentlemen," Richtofen announced, grabbing the attention of his team, "We are running low on supplies, we’ll be stopping wherever we can to search for them. Be on the lookout for bandages and..." 

Richtofen’s voice faded to a soft hum in the Tank's ears before he tuned out completely, only focusing on nothing particular infront of him, just staring blindly and endlessly ahead. His thoughts started to roam again and he briefly contemplated closing his eyes and just letting himself drift—

_No, don’t close your eyes, don’t wake back up in that dreadful place, just stay awake. Stay alive._

But what’s the point in fighting to ‘stay alive’ when he feels dead inside? What is he even fighting for anymore? Going home isn’t plausible anymore. The zombies keep coming in large numbers. Him and his friends are still following the same fucked up plan Dempsey _swears_ he’s already done before. What is there to look forward to?

Nothing. 

Even when this is all over, if they get out alive that is, where do they go? Richtofen has spoke of multiple realities and universes imploding, what if the real world has gone with it? For all they know, they could be doomed to an endless eternity of fighting these undead corpses without any sort of escape. 

Except for death. 

Tank didn’t want his mind to go down _that_ route—

"Dempsey, are you even listening to me?" Richtofen's voice brought him crashing back to reality and he found all of his friends staring at him. The marine didn’t like being the centre of worry and he cleared his throat as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Yeah, of course." What a load of bullshit. 

"So you would have no problem repeating what I had just said then?" Richtofen commented, knowing full-well that Tank wouldn’t be able to. A brief moment of silence passed before he sighed, "I said to be on the lookout for bandages, food und water." 

"Where are we even going?" Nikolai asked. 

The doctor gave an humourless, embarrassed laugh, "Ah, hah, well, we don’t really have a...designated location right now, until Monty—" 

"Who the fuck even is this Dr. Monty? He could be the fucking devil for all I know." Dempsey growled as he contributed to the conversation, Richtofen stared at him surprised, before he calmed himself again. 

"You’ll find out soon enough, Dempsey, when we meet him at—"

Tank cut him off yet again, getting to his feet and approaching Richtofen, "Why are you so cryptic all the time? Why can’t you just tell us who this guy is, and for once, _for fucking once,_  Richtofen, tell us what we’re actually doing!?" 

Takeo and Nikolai stayed silent and uninvolved, but were ready to restrain Dempsey if he became violent towards Richtofen. After all, he was just stating what the other two had thought as well at one point or another in their journey.

The doctor opened his mouth to defend his actions when Tank jumped in yet again.

"Oh wait, you can’t, can you? Because all you do is follow some stupid fucking book which could possibly be a load of bullshit, but you worship it like it’s a goddamn bible! You don’t even consider the possibility that following it is what keeps us trapped in this hellhole! I’m so _sick and tired_ of following some plan I know nothin’ about..."Dempsey’s voice trailed off as he glared at the ground, trying to regain control of his emotions. 

Silence settled over the group along with a thick tension that resided in the air. Nobody spoke in fear that it would cause Dempsey to snap or act aggressive towards them. The minutes ticked by agonisingly slow. 

"I don't know what to tell you, marine. What I do, I do only for our future." Richtofen said solemnly, looking at his teammate struggling to calm down.

"Our future?" Dempsey laughed mockingly, his eyes meeting the doctor’s, "What future, Richtofen? There  _is_ no fut—"

The distant roar of zombies indicated a new wave would be on top of them soon. 

Shaking his head with an annoyed sigh, the American muttered, "Doesn’t fuckin’ matter, let’s just go." 

They retrieved their weapons and grabbed their only remaining medical kit and wordlessly, Richtofen moved to unlock the door of the bunker they took refuge in and stepped out into the blinding morning light. Nikolai and Takeo followed after, Tank walked behind them all, mulling over the words he’d spewed at Richtofen in a frenzy in his head. The doctor didn’t deserve that, he was just trying to keep all of them safe and, most importantly, _alive,_ Dempsey shouldn’t put any more pressure on his shoulders. He didn’t mean to have an outburst, but bottling up his feelings was only bounding them to spill. 

The inevitable horde surrounding them instantaneously broke the marine out of his reverie, he cocked his pistols and aimed at the corpses’ head, pulling the trigger and watching its brains explode into a sea of red that rained down on him. It reminded him of his dream, the sense of death around him only started pulling him back to that dark place, to the pits of his mind. 

As the zombies swarmed them, the four were forced to separate from each other, running to different parts of the city they were currently in. Dempsey didn’t catch sight of his fleeting teammates, he could only see blood flying from the zombies in front of him, coating him in crimson. He ran into an abandoned building, trying to put distance between him and the zombies before they were on top of him completely. As he turned around once again to shoot at them, the familiar and disappointing ‘clicking’ sound erupted from his gun, indicating his lack of bullets. 

Growling in frustration, he threw his pistols at the horde, the useless weapon bounced off one of the zombie’s heads and made it disorientated momentarily. Distracting one zombie wasn’t enough though, and he scrambled around the building hoping to find some sort of weapon he could use. Tank spotted something he was adamant was a gift from God himself in the corner of his eye, a chalk drawing of an AK-47. Thanking his lucky stars, he grabbed the gun off of the wall desperately and unloaded onto the horde still hot on his heels. The bullets tore through and shredded their flesh into ribbons, staining the walls around them with a sickly scarlet, parts of their guts exploding and flying through the air. 

Dempsey inhaled quick, rapid breaths as the sound of growling gradually died down around him, taking a moment to console himself from the carnage he had just caused. During this time however, he became oblivious to his surroundings, and a zombie grabbed his shoulders and sunk its teeth into the side of his neck, which caused him to let out a startled and pained yelp. Instinctively, he bent and rolled the infected over his back, causing it to land on the floor as his boot collided with its face, squashing it into the floor boards below. 

Another zombie swiped at his stomach, their long, animal like claws scraped across his torso and ripped the fabric of his jacket, blood poured from the deep cut and turned the brown of his jacket a dark red. He couldn’t adjust his weapon fast enough to blow the zombie’s brains out, and it took another slash at him, trailing another slit down his abdomen. Dempsey grunted as he felt crucial blood leak from him, finally righting his gun and unleashing a barrage of bullets into the corpse. 

He slung his weapon across his back momentarily, and with a slow, shaking hand, Tank raised a hand to his neck, covering it with his glove for a second before removing it. He looked down at his palm and was alarmed when he saw it coated with fresh, new blood. _His_ blood. This only reinforced the realisation of the wound in his mind, he could now feel the pulsating liquid ooze from the bite mark and dribble down his neck, soaking his collar in it. 

He wiped the blood on his trouser leg. It was irrelevant, a deadly reminder of a stupid mistake, now he would have to deal with his friends fussing over him and trying to stop the wound bleeding and bandage it all up crystal clean. Usually Dempsey would have no objections to that, he took help whenever he was offered it, but what was peculiar this time around was that Tank didn’t _want_  the wound to be taken care of.

He didn’t _want_ his friends to take care of him. He didn’t _want_ to worry them. He didn’t _need_ their aid. He would be a _burden_.

_Just be strong. For them._

However, trying to hide gaping teeth marks embedded into his neck was going to be a challenge within itself. He readjusted his collar, rolling it up a little higher than usual and checking to see if it covered the wound. Thankfully, it did, and as the sound of footsteps approaching became louder, he readied his rifle and aimed it at the door once more. 

Nikolai, Takeo and Richtofen all burst into the room at the same time, and Dempsey lowered his weapon once more. 

"Ah, Dempsey, there you are, we’ve been looking for you for ten minutes!" The doctor exclaimed, huffing as he crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the American. He resembled a disappointed parent, the revelation nearly made Tank chuckle. Nearly.

Dempsey offered an innocent shrug, absentmindedly facing the wounded side of his neck away from his teammates, "I just ran for this building so I didn’t get caught out in the open with those fuckers." 

Takeo nodded, "Are you hurt? Or is that blood from the hell-spawns?" 

Dempsey gritted his teeth and tried to hold his voice steady as he replied, "I’m fine, nothing to worry about." However, his tone still strayed from the normal way he sounded when he spoke. 

It wasn’t like the American to be so unenthusiastic and curt with his words and overall body language, he was acting very strange today. First the outburst back at their sleeping quarters, and now he was avoiding most of their questions. It was peculiar in the eyes of his group. 

The blood continued to trickle down his neck, his hand twitched as he resisted the urge to cover the wound again. 

"That is good. We should get moving, now we are all together." Dempsey silently thanked his Russian friend for diverting the attention off of him and onto their next course of action. Richtofen clicked his tongue as he held his concerned gaze on his American ally. 

 _I’ll question him later,_  he thought.

Edward then turned to face his Russian comrade, "Nein, Nikolai, we’ll stay here for now, we can look for supplies." 

Nikolai fumed internally, clenching his fists as his deep voice warned, "Da, let us stay in zombie-infested hell pit instead of moving on with our mission! That sounds like a great idea, _German."_ He spat, taking a threatening step towards the man.

Richtofen gave a little roll of his eyes, "We have no ‘ _mission_ ’, as of right now, Nikolai. We need to focus on not getting ourselves killed in the meantime, und that means staying put in abuilding that’s actually  _intact._ Surely you can manage that." 

The bigger soldier growled under his breath and Takeo placed a calming hand on his shoulder, "The doctor is right, we don’t want to get surrounded out there again, we’re lucky we managed to salvage a place like this. We must take advantage." 

Nikolai shrugged Takeo’s hand off, annoyed his point was disregarded completely, "Fine, but when hell-pig tries to eat German in his sleep, Nikolai won’t be there to save him!" The Russian then stormed off out of the room, refusing to be in the same room as the man he despised. Takeo gave a glance to Dempsey before he followed him out. 

It was just Tank and Edward now. 

"Ah, Nikolai, as angry as ever, isn’t he? I do not see how you two are such good friends, Dempsey." Richtofen said, trying to clear the tension that still hung in the air. 

Tank blinked once. Twice. Bleakly, he met Richtofen’s eyes—he wasn’t really paying attention. He hoped that remaining uninvolved in the conversation would give the other the prompt to leave him alone, but apparently not. Dempsey didn’t want to be rude to Edward, but he didn’t exactly crave his company either. 

"Uh, yeah." Was all he managed to muster. Inhaling deep, he idly leaned back against the desk behind him, steadying his hands on either side of the furniture. _Keep your eyes open. Don’t succumb to the pain. Stay awake. Stay alive._

A beat of silence passed.

The blood continued to leak. 

The doctor rubbed his sweaty palms as he took a step closer, "Dempsey, about what you said earlier...I—"

The marine held up a palm, silencing the German instantantly, "Look, Doc, I don’t need a lecture right now. To be honest, I just want to be left the fuck alone, thanks." 

"All I want is to clear the air. We can't have distractions, our mission is too important. I understand you may be experiencing recent and unexpected trauma which is effecting how you feel, but..." Edward tried to explain, but Dempsey wasn’t having any of it. 

"No, don’t you dare try to use your fuckin’ _‘Psychology 101’_ bullshit on me, Doc. How many goddman _times,"_ He clenched his jaw, "Do I have to tell you that _I. Am. Fine._ There’s nothing wrong with me wanting some space. I thought you of all people would get that, with how secretive you are." Dempsey growled, his cold yet truthful words struck a nerve deep inside his German teammate.

Edward felt surprisingly hurt by his words, along with another emotion akin to...shame? Regret? Guilt? The doctor wasn’t sure, but it definitely _hurt_. To be insulted by Dempsey in jest or as a joke didn’t bother him, especially in the battlefield, but now, Richtofen felt different. Tank had never blantantly gone against him outside of the war zone. To be reprimanded by Tank  _hurt._ To be yelled at by Tank  _hurt._ Why did his opinion bother him so much? Why did his disapproval hurt the German more than he wanted to acknowledge? 

Dempsey had always been a shortfuse, and maybe it really was time the German left him alone. 

"...I shall not bother you any longer." Richtofen turned on his heel and bolted for the door.

"I really don’t get how it was that much to ask, but whatever." He poured salt into the wound there, didn’t he? Furrowing his brows and frowning, Edward stomped out, slamming the door around him and making the light above Tank shake. The loud slam only echoed his violent thoughts.   
  
Dempsey cursed, more-so at himself, he didn’t want to _hurt_ Richtofen. He pushed the worried thoughts for his teammate to the back of his mind. 

Now alone, Dempsey took in a deep breath as he repositioned himself away from the desk and peeled his bloodied jacket from his torso, tossing it on the piece of funiture behind him and moving his hand across his abdomen. He winced and let out a small gasp when his finger trailed one of the slashes that now lived on the skin of his stomach. It was a thin line that ran from one side of his stomach to the other, and it was deep. If he didn’t do something about it, it would most definitely become infected if exposed to bacteria. However, that meant Tank would have to ask Richtofen for the medkit, and that would completely blow his cover. 

It’s just two cuts. He can handle that, it’s not like he’s missing an arm or a leg. It’s just some scratches. 

His neck on the other hand...Well, that’s a completely different story entirely. 

If this wound got infected, Dempsey was, in every way possible, royally fucked. It didn’t help that the bleeding hadn’t stopped yet, and he found himself pressing his glove to it with crushing pressure, he didn’t want to end up _bleeding_ out—

But if he did, it would be better. There would be no more fighting, no more blood, no more death to experience. He would drift away soundly and peacefully, he would go to a better place and be free of all the torture around him. It would be like falling into a permanent sleep. The thought was almost comforting. 

_Don’t close your eyes._

_Don’t succumb to the pain._

_You’ll end up in that place again._

_Is that what you want?_

The pressure he was applying to the bite started to fade as he felt his hand grow weaker, as did the rest of his limbs. All he craved was the sweet taste of nothingness, but he knew passing out would not achieve him that. He would be reduced back to the dark corners of his mind. His head started to throb, like someone was bashing his head in over and over again with a brick, and his body jolted and flickered as he desperately prolonged his inevitable rest. 

Dempsey could feel it all. The blood leaving him in large volumes, the exhaustion taking over his body, the stabbing and agonising pain originating from his fresh wounds, the will to try to stop the bleeding and _save_ himself diminishing as these last valuable seconds ticked by. 

His knees shook and soon enough they sent him crashing to the floor. Dempsey’s hands trembled weakly as he made a final grab for his jacket. Although it may seem unnecessary, if they saw him bleeding and battered on the wooden floor, they would see his wounds, they would know his pain, they would think of him as _weak_ and a _burden._

Using the desk to stabilise himself and get back on his feet, he plopped himself in the chair facing said desk and threw his jacket over himself like a warm blanket, eyes staring forward at nothing in particular. He focused on trying to stay awake again. 

_Don’t close your eyes._

_Don’t succumb to the pain._

His eyelids grew heavy.

_No! Stay awake, what are you doing? Do you want to go back there?_

His limp body blended in perfectly with the corpses around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing about the environment these guys are in is difficult ngl. Ffs i actually need to describe the ‘map’ they’re in
> 
> Uhhhhh, it took me a week to write this, this entire chapter actually got a rewrite. Oof. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed anyway, sorry about typos (if there are any) I’ll fix them at a later date.


	3. Presence

_"Ah, so you have joined me once more."_

_Dempsey’s eyes fluttered open to a completely different environment, the dark reality that plagued his dreams and tormented his mind—it was the tortured world he had experienced before, it had ensnared him in its grasp once again. He was laying down on his front again, just like before, but there wasn’t any blood. He was clean. Recognisable. The voice speaking to him was unrecognisable however, it sounded like it was coming from above him, but also far away from him, almost like someone was talking into a bottomless void, making their words surround him completely._

_As panic settled in, he looked around frantically and jumped to his feet, not welcome to the idea of being in such a vulnerable position against a potential threat. Who was this entity speaking to him, and where was he? No matter how hard he looked though, he couldn’t see a figure anywhere around him. Was it a voice inside his head?_

_With his heart drumming in his ears, he spoke out clearly, "Who are you?"_

_He received no answer. The silence passed slowly as if the entity was taunting him by refusing to give him answers. Tank knew somebody else was with him, considering they had greeted him back into his realm, so why were they playing some silly game with him?_

_The marine grew frustrated as his question was ignored, and called out once more, "Look, I don’t know what the fuck you want from me, but can you just..."_

_Just, what?_

_"I don’t know what this is," He admitted after a brief moment of contemplation , "I don’t know who you are, but I know you’re there! So show yourself!" He finished, trying to disguise his fear with confidence._

_"As you wish."_

_His anger diminished and was replaced by bewilderment as the fog around him unravelled to appear a pitch black silhouette of a figure. It was shaped like a man, but the darkness gave away nothing else of his persona. The entity appeared to be a shadow, but Dempsey could feel the demonic life radiating from its ghostly form. Silence settled over them once more, the entity taking in every inch of the marine’s figure, and Tank trying to deduce whether what was in front of him was actually real. It looked so...fake._

_But it felt so real._

_"...What is this place?" Dempsey muttered into the darkness, glancing around, his eyes finally falling on the only other form in front of him. He inhaled and exhaled a steady breath, taking a moment to recompose himself._

_The entity’s voice echoed lowly throughout the realm, "A nightmare, a reality that doesn't exist. A place in the back of your mind, a part of you you haven’t acknowledged." He said, releasing a dark chuckle at the marine’s visible confusion, "This?" He gestured to the emptiness around them, "It’s not real, your presence here is a mere façade."_

_"So if this isn’t real...How are you here? ‘Fragment of the imagination’, type of thing?" He questioned. The entity didn’t seem to be hostile as of right now, but it was good to gather as much information as he could before he drew a conclusion of the man, or thing—whatever ‘it’ was._

_He couldn’t see the figure’s face, but he assumed he had agreed to an extent, "I suppose it is similar to that. It’s more of...a fragment of the mental state, sanity." He said, "You see, when one starts to slip away, their mind becomes their greatest enemy. It can reveal the darkest of secrets, the darkest memories one has locked away to protect them from themselves. It can make you see things that aren’t really there."_

_The entity laughed again, "I mean, like I said, this isn’t real. How do you know that this...isn’t just one big hallucination? A delusion, maybe? Is it a dream?"_

_"Or, is this just what your mind wants you to see?"_

_Dempsey’s heart skipped a beat. Was he really starting to go insane? He was seeing different realities and actual entities in front of him, things that were certified to not be real. Was this what Richtofen had to deal with? His head spun with questions but before he could stammer one at the shadow, the world began to break up beneath him, and his heart lept into his throat. Fear suffocated him as words failed to leave him._

_"I suppose our time is up. Don’t worry, we’ll meet again, Tank Dempsey. Soon. Very soon."_

_The world fell apart, as did he, into a mere nothingness._

* * *

Dempsey shot up from his prone position, heaving in a shaky breath as he entered the real world again. His movement was so quick and unprecedented that the man next to him, Edward Richtofen, jumped out of his skin and immediately backed away from the marine. Both of them had given each other a fright, but after realising that there was no threat, they calmed down.

However, for Tank, the only threat was in his mind. It wasn’t physical.   


Perhaps it was the same for Richtofen. 

The marine glanced down at himself, seeing he was only wearing his blood-stained grey t-shirt, his jacket wasn’t anywhere in sight. He also appeared to be in a different room to the one he passed out in. This room was surprisingly clean, considering the fact the building had been infested with zombies, and that’s why he was escorted here. However, that meant his attempt to keep his teammates from knowing about his injuries was unsuccessful.

Their _doctor_ was perched in front of him, after all.

Dempsey rubbed his eyes, unwilling to look at Richtofen. Tensions were already running high between them and he didn’t want to explain _this_ to him.

Edward looked at him in confusion, this... _switch_ , he supposed he could call it, in Dempsey’s character was strange and unlike him entirely. It had been distracting enough for him to be careless enough to suffer an attack, but to not even tell his team? What thought process could have led to him thinking he was better off bleeding out instead of getting help?

Nikolai and Takeo weren’t currently in the room with them, so if he wanted to question him about such pertinent things, now was his opportunity.

Richtofen didn’t want to press Tank’s boundaries though, like he had a couple of hours prior, however, he also didn’t want the marine to become unhinged. Like he was. These signs were something he couldn't just overlook, he too suffered from a sudden change in his character, and after that...He was different. But, the doctor had learnt to cope a long time ago, his teammate may not be able to, voices in your head wasn't just something you learned to deal with overnight. He was still hurt by what Dempsey had said to him, but that didn’t mean he wouldn't support him, if he ever needed it. To leave him all alone in a time of need, and tell him to deal with it? That hurt him more than those trivial words ever could.

The silence between them radiated of awkwardness, and Edward cleared his throat as Tank eventually turned to look at him.

Richtofen hardened his expression, "Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?"

Dempsey leaned back into the sofa and threw his head back as he rolled his eyes, knowing this question was coming soon enough, "It wasn’t a concern at that moment, doc."

Richtofen looked at him incredulously, "‘Wasn’t a concern’?!" His voice raised as he continued, "Dempsey, if Nikolai hadn’t had checked on you when he did—!"

"I was fine!"

"You passed out from blood loss!"

"I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal! We’ve all got bite marks and scratches before, it’s nothing new!" Tank fired back, his pent-up frustration beginning to show.   


Edward clenched his jaw.

"Our prior wounds have _never_ been this serious or life threatening." Richtofen spoke lowly, with a deep intensity Dempsey had never seen before, and Tank was surprised to see him so dismayed. With an exasperated shake of his head, the doctor continued, "You should’ve told me! Or do you want to die?! Is that what you want, Dempsey?! To bleed out and be no more?!" His German accent was thick with emotion; anger yet concern. Couldn’t he see how much his allies cared about him? Did he not understand that he wasn't the only one under stress? 

Dempsey remained silent at Richtofen's words. Was that what he wanted? Did he want to just..."be no more"?. Did he want...something more, something different? A new reality perhaps, a new life. A second chance. Is that what he really craved?

The truth is, he couldn't answer that question. He didn't know what he wanted anymore.

The marine’s eyes darted away from his teammate’s as silence engulfed the room again; Richtofen, too busy gritting his teeth together behind sealed lips, and Tank, too ashamed, too confused, to say anything back.

All their shouting had alerted Nikolai and Takeo to urgently check on them, and they entered the room to stop things from escalating. The doctor blocked out their conversation, conflicting with his emotions. He took to idly unzipping his medical kit and getting the necessary equipment he needed from it. Tank watched him do it warily, already dreading the procedure.

"We heard shouting, so I assumed Dempsey was awake," Nikolai teased, he seemed to been in a better mood than he was last time the marine had seen him, "Are you alright, comrade?"

"Fine." He replied. The four of them could feel the hot tension residing in the room, it disrupted the atmosphere as it settled between it, causing all of them feel on edge, forcing them to be especially careful with their words. 

Takeo squinted, "That is what you said last time, but you were not ‘fine’. Why didn’t you tell us you were hurt? If we hadn’t had found you when we did, you might’ve not even been here right now."

"I didn’t want to cause anything, I wasn’t in pain at the time, honestly." Tank said, wishing they could all stop questioning him and give him a break. Of course, his wish would not be granted. 

The warrior exhaled, clearly sensing the obvious white lie, "We are a team, Dempsey. We fight together and look out for each other. We are here to help you, it’s not good to keep injuries from us, especially in the condition we found you in."

Dempsey tried to dodge the guilt trip, his entire motive was to _not_ cause worry or a scene for anyone. He muttered in a small voice, "Surely it wasn’t that bad, I’m still here, aren’t I?"

"You were sleeping in a puddle of blood, hell pig bit you good, American," Nikolai said, "German said he’d have to stitch it up."

"Woah, woah, hold on a second, stitches? That's a bit unnecessary, don'cha think?" Tank commented, immediately put off the idea of having stitches on the side of his neck, of all places. It’d be even more of a hassle; he’d have to make sure he didn’t tear them, and clean them routinely. But what if they ran out of cleaning supplies? What if the wound became infected? He thought back to the incident and how he failed to defend himself; why did he have to be so careless?

The doctor, who had been quiet throughout the whole ordeal, finished pulling on his surgical gloves and inputted, "Entirely necessary, on the contrary. However, I cannot guarantee it will be a particularly pleasant experience." He took a moment to take a deep breath, letting it out slowly, steadying a hand on the arm of the chair, "Not to mention where the wound is, it can be dangerous. There's a chance it could make the bleeding worse, if I am not careful with where I suture." By ‘make the bleeding worse’, Richtofen meant there was a chance of death—but of course he wasn’t going to say that. "I hope you can learn something from this, Tank Dempsey."

Dempsey felt as if Edward was talking down to him, "Yeah? Like what." He challenged.

"That we tell," He gestured to himself brashly, "The _doctor_ , when we are injured, so the wounds don't get worse."

The marine tried to hold his hard expression but failed, and gave a soft, shallow sigh, "Okay. I get it." He said to himself under his breath, stubborn as usual, unwilling to admit Richtofen was right.

Again.

He was just trying to help him. Tank couldn’t hate him for that, he was grateful deep down.

Nikolai broke the brief quiet, "How will you stitch? He is awake, it will be painful, and probably loud, da? We can’t alert more hell pigs." 

Richtofen threaded his needle, all too aware of the paranoid eyes of the marine watching him, "It would be painful, but unfortunately I have a dose of general anaesthetic I can give him," He teased, trying to lighten the mood between them, receiving yet another eye roll off his patient. He reached into his medical kit and pulled out a small syringe, brandishing it in his hand.

Edward then turned to Takeo and Nikolai, "I’d appreciate if you two could leave for now, I don’t want any distractions. I cannot mess this up." He said sternly.

"Understood, doctor. We will look for supplies and be back soon." Takeo responded, their two allies promptly leaving the room shortly after. Richtofen faced Dempsey once again.

"Well, that’s reassuring. I’m relieved to know you’re _so_ confident about this." Tank voice was laced with sarcasm, "So, you’re putting me to sleep then?"

Now it was Edward’s turn to give a little eye roll of his own, "Oh hush, don’t be a baby, Dempsey, und yes, you will be asleep. It’ll be fine." He paused as he attempted to give a small smile, which faltered instantly, "Y-yes, it will be fine!" It sounded more like he was trying to convince himself.

"Just get it over with quickly. Please." He had to go back to his mind. He had to experience it again. He couldn’t escape it no matter how hard he tried.

Richtofen frowned. Clearing his head of all distracting thoughts, he gently picked up Dempsey’s hand and injected the small syringe into the back of his hand, into his vein. Once it was secure, he leaned back and readied his stitching needle.

After a couple of seconds of so, the marine began to feel drowsy, he blinked slowly as his body grew tired, his body pushing itself further into the sofa as he relaxed and he closed his eyes, pulling him away and into darkness.

Edward made sure he was fully asleep before he, leaned over him, and began to work on the wound.

* * *

_"Back already, are we?"_

_I wish I wasn’t._

_Dempsey felt woozy, as if his real life state had followed him to the dreamscape, the one that was receiving surgery. He felt disorientated, and as he tried to gain his footing in the darkness, he stumbled forward, his head spun and throbbed. He felt sick._

_"Wow, you look worse than when we last spoke. I guess this whole survival thing takes its toll on everyone eventually, hm?" The shadow loomed towards him, leaning over and taking in every fibre of his body._

_He turned and walked away from him, his hands clasped firmly behind his back, "Sometimes its nice to know you have people who care about you, isn’t it?"_

_"How...How do you know..." Tank tried to ask, but stopped as he clutched his temples, feeling his body and mind ache. This isn’t real, so why does it feel real? Why can he feel pain?_

_"I see everything you see. I am a consciousness within your unconscious, if you will." Dempsey didn’t even know what that meant, "But truly, isolation is like an illness. You don’t always know you have it, and if that is the case, it will kill you. Slowly. It prays on the weak, and as soon as one thinks they have nobody, they lose will, reason. They don’t stop to question what they are doing, because they realise nobody cares about what they are **actually** doing. They don’t try, because who do they try for? **What** do they try for? Nothing matters, because nobody cares. And when they fall into that pit of loneliness and despair, they can’t get out of it."_

_The figure looked back towards the dazed marine, "Why? Well, we are nothing without each other. People need company, they need reassurance from people from time to time, that it will be okay. That it’s okay to need help every now and then. Even those who think they can make it on their own."_

_Dempsey shook his head in disbelief, "Why...are you telling me all this?"_

_The shadow glanced to the left, and to Tank’s astonishment, Richtofen was standing there, a bright aura surrounding him, like he was an angel, lightening up his mind and banishing the darkness away. He stood still, but he was there. For him. The doctor was a light, and just from the sight of him, Tank felt...better. His aching body began to cease, and his pounding headache stopped._

_It’s not real._

_"Because you have people. You have people who care." The figure said as he glanced to the right, and there was Takeo and Nikolai. All of his teammates, his friends. A light in the darkness, albeit a hallucination entirely._

_His pain ceased completely._

_It's not real._

_"Don’t throw that away, they’re all you have."_

_"Why are you helping me?"_

_The figure took a few steps closer, "Like I said before, I am a fragment of your sanity, not your enemy; a hallucination. Insanity strips a man of everything they are, and replaces it with a shell, don’t fall into the abyss, don’t let it drag you down to the depths."_

_"Or this world..." The figure gestured around them as Richtofen, Nikolai and Takeo disappeared, shrouding the remaining two in complete darkness. "It will corrupt. And so will they. People need you, you can't let them down._ _Your friends...They will keep you from the dark."  The entity walked away from him and left him there, in the dreamscape, all alone._

_"It's time to go back. Time is precious, don't waste it."_

* * *

Tank blinked lethargically, he felt blinded as the light of the room strained his eyes, making him feel partially dazed. He was able to make out some shapes in the room and realised Richtofen wasn’t with him. They had all probably gone to look for something for them to eat, as it seemed they were bunking it down here for tonight at least. Dempsey made an attempt to get up and look for them, only for his head to throb and his body spike with a stabbing pain through his abdomen and neck, making him instantly regret the movement and resume his prior position. A shiver shook him as his body temperature lowered, making goosebumps rise on his exposed flesh. 

He reached up to feel where the bite wound was, but instead felt a rough, stretchy material—bandages. So Richtofen had fixed the wound after all. His neck was strapped from above his collar bone to just beneath his chin, not too tight, but tight enough to keep the stitches covered and in place. It was beginning to itch his skin. Annoyed, he gave the bandages a bit too aggressive of a tug in an attempt to rearrange its tightness and position, when a voice nearly made him jump out his skin.

"Nein, nein! Stop, you could tear the stitches!" Richtofen panicked, rushing over and pulling Tank’s hand away, "I’ll remove the bandages und check it in the morning, for now, don’t touch it. Try not to move around too much, I also stitched the lacerations on your chest. How are you feeling?" The doctor kneeled down next to the sofa and took his hand, removing the syringe.

The marine threw his elbow across his eyes, trying to block out the light, "My head is fucking killing me. And it’s freezing."

Edward nodded, he stood up to retrieve the soldier’s jacket and draped it across him, "As expected, those are common side effects. You may also experience sickness, but hopefully this should be gone by tomorrow. You should rest for now."

"But I just slept!" Dempsey protested. Most people wouldn’t turn down additional rest, especially when it was recommended by a doctor, but the marine didn’t want to go back to his...place of sanity, he supposed. He was still trying to comprehend what the shadow had said to him mere moments ago!

"Doctor’s orders, Dempsey." Richtofen reiterated and crossed his arms over his chest. 

"I don’t need to!"

"Yes, you do, otherwise the side effects will worsen. You need to let your body recuperate from the surgery." The doctor said, his tone leaving no room for objections. 

Tank sighed deeply, there was no point in arguing, he entered his thoughts again. Although the entity in his mind didn't seem to be hostile or evil of any sorts, he was scared. It was one of the rare occasions where he truly was. The shadow was like a hidden conscience he didn't know he had, an inner voice that kept him grounded, perhaps gave him a wisdom, to make sure he was still moving forward in life. But it also trapped him, and who knew when that conscience could switch and become a nightmare, like it originally had been? He didn't want to go back. Not now. 

"I can't." 

Richtofen pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes for a second, "Why not?" His patience was wearing thin.

"I can’t go back there. Not again." Tank’s tone had switched in an instant to serious with a hint of...fear?   


This was that secret side of Dempsey Richtofen had never been acquainted with before. A side that was vulnerable and hurting, worrying for his future. 

It hurt to see him in this way. 

Richtofen approached and sat on the other side of the sofa, next to his patient’s feet. He studied him, lowering his volume as he asked, "Go where?"

 _"My mind."_ The marine’svoice was restrained, like he wanted to say more, but he didn't want to. He couldn't.

Edwards frown perplexed. What? His mind? The more he thought about the simple answer, the more it made him realise it sounded like him. His short experience of insanity, nightmares...where he was tormented by his own mind, his own thoughts, and how they controlled him, and made him think he was useless. Disposable.

He glanced back up to find Dempsey avoiding eye contact with him. He was ashamed that he admitted he was scared. Of his mind, of himself. The strong-willed, hard-headed, tough marine who had to carry the world on his shoulders and help his friends, who had to kill walking corpses for a living, who Richtofen thought was afraid of nothing—was actually afraid of himself. He couldn’t admit he needed help, because he thought he’d be weak.

The doctor inched closer, and settled himself into the plush cushions of the seat, "I can stay, i-if you want." He offered shyly. Now he was the one avoiding eye contact.

The marine exhaled, Richtofen couldn’t tell if it was of relief or something else, but he didn’t say no.

"Can you please just try closing your eyes? I promise I’ll be here when you wake up." The last part was a bit forward, especially for the enigmatic doctor, but Dempsey found the reassurance comforting—he wouldn’t mind. So he closed his eyes, and tried to rest himself.

Richtofen knew him and Dempsey were different. He’d always know that.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t care. He always did.

He would be his light in the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its been 6 months. 
> 
> Fuck me. Lol that’s probably the longest hiatus I’ve taken. 
> 
> I mean...I’m sorry, but mental health is important. I needed a break tbh, to just, get my shit together. If I’m not motivated to wriite, I won’t write, because then i just make half assed shit that isn’t enjoyable. I want to make my story the best quality it can be for people. 
> 
> Any aspiring ao3 writers? Its okay to take a break if you’re feeling any pressure or strain, you are a human, not a robot. Don’t feel guilty about it. 
> 
> So sorry about the wait though :( I stayed up till midnight trying to write this, and I had to fix it in the morning because gosh rich text can be a pain for editing sometimes. Ugh. It's glitchier than black ops 4 and that's saying something.
> 
> LOL SEE YOU ALL IN ANOTHER 6 MONTHS jk.
> 
> i hope. also. i’m not a medical expert lol, i did some generic research about stitches, but i skipped on a scene about it as i lack the accurate details, so i was like ‘lets just throw anaesthetic in there even if it doesnt fit the time period lol’ 
> 
> criticism + feedback welcome!


	4. Recovery

After leaving Richtofen and Dempsey alone, Nikolai and Takeo decided to scout the perimeter of their temporary resting place, in search of food, water, any supplies that could be of some use to them. The building was secure inside for now, but Nikolai made sure to bring his shotgun with him while they traversed the outside, just in case a few stragglers tried to catch them by surprise.

The sun was just beginning to set when they stepped out and into the light, an array of orange and red hues aligned the sky in abstract directions, the clouds had began to fade out, leaving the dimming sky clear and open. Takeo used to appreciate scenes like this, it reminded him of the skies in Japan, and he could picture a flourishing cherry blossom tree, perched upon a green hilltop, swaying in the wind gently, himself sat under it, at peace. These images once calmed his mind, it allowed him to briefly escape his tortured and plagued reality, to enter a serene place of reflection, that he hoped he could return to one day. But now, it felt different looking at such beauty, in a world filled with so much pain.

Nikolai observed his comrade, "Beautiful weather, hm?" He said.

"Yes," Takeo agreed, looking away from the colours to focus ahead of them as they began to walk together, "It is a shame such images cannot be appreciated for what they truly are anymore. They hold different meaning, now." 

The Russian tilted his head inquisitively, "What do you mean?"

"When I look at the sky now, I find it difficult to appreciate the colours, the patterns, the shapes of the clouds, the stars at night, the moon. Before, I would look at their beauty, and search for their meaning, like how every star tells a story. It used to put me at ease, the calming colours of dawn, and the quiet beauty of the night. But now, when I see the sun, it is time for us to fight. When I see the moon, it is time for us to rest from the demons. I cannot appreciate the sight anymore. I am only reminded of the pain we go through." Takeo said solemnly.

Nikolai upheld a steady pace as they turned the corner of the building, and started towards another one. A small smile spread across his face as Takeo’s revelation reminded him of his home, "I remember in Russia, it would snow for days on end, sometimes. Whole cities would be covered in white, like Christmas every morning! It was a nuisance to shovel out of way of house, but it was beautiful. It made everything brighter. I used to go on walks with my wife. And we would throw snowballs at each other!" He gave a hearty laugh, "I would always get her, and she would be covered in white by the end of it. She always looked good in white." His voice trailed off and into silence.

Takeo was aware of the past-tense, and the concealed sadness present behind the Russian’s strong exterior. He lifted his hand and placed it on Nikolai’s shoulder, a subtle reminder that she was still with him, and that Takeo respected his wishes to avoid too much detail about her. Nikolai had expressed discomfort in talking about her before, as it brought back terrible memories he had tried so hard to repress.

"I know is not the same, but I had an appreciation for scenery as well. I too understand how it feels different now." Nikolai attempted to give his comrade a reassuring smile, but it faltered instantly.

"Perhaps we can change our new perception, when this is all over." The warrior suggested, trying to add light to the conversation.

"Da, I would like that."

They fell into a content silence shortly after, finding comfort in the other’s mere presence as they continued to walk along the streets, having taken a detour from the building Richtofen and Dempsey resided in. Considering they had already searched their other make-shift base, it would be a good idea to check some other places around for any supplies, which was the intended reason for their trip, before they got sidetracked in their conversation.

Nikolai spotted a small shop in the corner of his eye, and gestured for Takeo to come have a look at it with him. The front window was smashed, and the door was slightly ajar from presumed zombies that had broken in to it, the reason why wasn’t clear. Perhaps there had been a person hiding in there, and they were eventually overwhelmed by a horde of undead. Either way, it looked like a typical department store, and the Russian spotted a few items still perched on the shelves, as well as some scattered on the floor, so it was worth investigating.

He pushed the door open, shotgun readied in hand and stepped into the store, gazing around, looking for any potential threat. After finding none, he signalled with his hand that it was safe for his comrade to enter. Once both inside, Takeo went towards one of the shelves that still had items on it and looked for anything useful. Nikolai checked the front desk, only to find a corpse slumped over the chair behind it. There was someone holding out in there after all, but judging by his surprisingly intact body and the bullet hole in his forehead, this didn’t look like the doing of any zombie. It looked human.

"Takeo," He called the man over, "This," He gestured to the mess left in the store, "Wasn’t the work of zombies. This was people."

The Japanese man nodded, "I was beginning to think the same. The only things I’ve found so far are items we wouldn’t need, there’s no food or water anywhere." He leaned down to fully look at the deceased male, "The wound looks old, and he is grey, at least we can assume these bandits have moved on from this place, though I am not sure how common other people are in our realm."

"We can hope. We don’t need any more worries, with us having an injured comrade and all." Nikolai said. They left the store, both of them feeling slightly disheartened at leaving empty handed. It was going to be yet another night without food.

They began walking again, and Takeo hadn’t given up on their search just yet, "I am sure Dempsey will be fine, he just needs time to rest. Then we can get moving again."

The Russian sighed, "Da, physically he will be alright, if German hasn’t screwed up his stitches. It is...something else that I am worried about."

"...I am not sure I follow." Takeo had a small idea of what Nikolai was talking about, but he didn’t want to jump to conclusions just yet, he wasn’t sure if Dempsey himself had spoken to Nikolai about his nightly patterns.

"The thrashing at night? The blank stares at the wall? He hid that he was wounded! You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed how out of it he seems lately." Nikolai was astonished at the possibility that someone as perceptive as Takeo had missed all these signs. Nikolai wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box, but even he had picked up on this switch in character.

Takeo nodded slowly, "Yes, it seems he has trouble sleeping, and when he stares off, it seems he is deep in thought about something he would rather not share. Whatever it is, I can’t imagine what he is dreaming or thinking about is good, if it makes him think he’s better off bleeding out than telling us he’s hurt."

"I am concerned about him. American is strong, always has been, but I have _never_ seen him like this. We can’t allow it to get worse for him...whatever ‘it’ is."

"We should talk to him about it—even if he doesn’t share much, he should know we are there for him unconditionally, he is our teammate and our friend. We should also alert Richtofen about it, if he isn’t already aware. He is a doctor, maybe he can keep an eye on him." Takeo suggested. The Russian’s look turned sour at the idea.

"I do not trust German. I bet he doesn’t even care about any of our wellbeings! Telling him would be pointless, he is too focused on himself to care about our team." Nikolai grumbled as he glanced towards any buildings worth looking in. Sadly, there didn’t seem to be any.

"If Richtofen doesn’t care, why did he help Dempsey? If Richtofen  _doesn’t_ _care_ , why is he dragging us along for his mission?"

"Because he needs us for his own benefit! And that’s what doctors do, he is merely playing the part, and he’s fooled you with it!"

"You are the only one who has been fooled, Nikolai. Fooled by your own perception. If Richtofen wanted Dempsey to die, or any of us for that matter, he would be dead already. This isn’t just about the doctor anymore." Takeo explained carefully.

Nikolai stayed silent for a few more moments before he glanced up at the sky, suddenly realising how the colours had faded to indigo, and the sun was nearly completely hidden behind the horizon—he wasn’t aware of how quick the time had passed.

He ignored Takeo’s last comment, "We should head back. It will be dark soon, we don’t want to get caught out here alone."

* * *

Dempsey awoke a few hours later, feeling better and refreshed, but still had spells of dizziness clouding his vision and pounding his head every so often. He groggily pressed his temples to try and dull the pain, however, when doing so, a sudden epiphany hit him and the pain dissipated instantly.

He didn’t have a nightmare. It was his first peaceful rest in a long damn time; the feeling was almost new to him.

Despite feeling like he could jump for joy at the realisation, he wondered what had caused the shadow to back off and leave him and his sanity alone for a while. Did the entity pity him and feel like giving him a short break, only to come back twice as bad the next time? Was it just taunting him? To give him false hope that everything was okay, when in reality it was still watching from the sidelines, ready to pull him back in his darkest moments?

"You’re awake," Richtofen said, barely suppressing a yawn, "Again."

Dempsey’s eyes landed on the man, still perched across from him, sitting exactly like he had been before he fell asleep. Had Edward not moved this entire time?

"...You stayed." Tank said softly, almost not believing his own words.

The doctor gave a shy smile, "I said I would."

Edward stayed because he understood the fear of your own mind. He didn’t want Dempsey to suffer alone through that.

Although the marine was grateful for Richtofen’s care and hospitality, he couldn’t help but feel guilty for the doctor sacrificing his own rest to watch over him. He turned to gaze out the window only to find it was dark out, and Nikolai and Takeo were nowhere in sight. Richtofen seemingly sensed his concern before it was even voiced, and spoke up.

"Takeo and Nikolai went to search for supplies...they will be back soon, no need to worry..." Edward’s voice was slow and slurred, and Tank could now see the small bags that had formed under his eyes across the day. They weren’t entirely noticeable, but they were there, and that little fact made Dempsey feel all the more guilty.

"Damn doc, you look like shit. Have you been sitting there all day?" The marine asked, attempting to disguise his concern with a friendly jab. He still had  _some_ dignity to maintain after all.

"N-no!" Edward stammered, a blush creeping up on his cheeks, "I ran some errands around here too, checked for zombies, ja! Anyway," he quickly changed the subject and tried to will the tiredness out of his voice, "Do you feel any better?"

Dempsey smirked, "Are you really the one to be asking me that right now? Worry about yourself for a sec."

Richtofen turned his head away to hide his smile, he was truly touched by the marine’s concern for him. It was nice to see that Tank had started turning back to his normal witty self, and had forgotten about their argument hours prior. Or maybe he was just acting tough to try and rebuild his pride after telling Richtofen his fears. He looked back to him, "You’re the one with a bite wound in your neck, Dempsey."

"Alright, no need to rub it in," He grumbled as he rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed, "I’m feeling way better. But Richtofen, seriously, you need to sleep." And truthfully, he did feel better. In fact, he was ecstatic at the possibility that the entity inside him wouldn't bother him, and even if it wasn't permanent, he was happy he got at least _one_ decent night's sleep.

"Dempsey, I’m fine, really, but I appreciate how much you care about me," Richtofen teased, laughing a little when Tank gave him a look. The marine then sprung to his feet, but did so too quickly, and clutched his temples as he swayed off balance. The doctor immediately arose to help him when Dempsey put up a hand.

"I’m fine, I’m fine, I just got up too fast. Geez, I feel like I just slept for a year," He complained as he stretched.

Richtofen scoffed from next to him and crossed his arms over his chest, "Don’t be dramatic, Dempsey. It was more like...Well, if you’re counting the time you were out because of the anaesthetic, and then the time after that, and also the time—"

"Okay, okay! I just got rid of my headache, I don’t need another one from math."

Richtofen laughed.

The door to the lounge they were in abruptly opened to reveal Takeo and Nikolai, who both looked happy to see Dempsey on his feet, but also disappointed, as they had returned empty-handed. They pushed that aside though, as they focused on their comrade.

Nikolai gave the American a hearty clap on the back, "It is good to see you are still alive, Dempsey!" He said with a big grin.

Tank cringed at the sound, and knew there was definitely a red handprint on his back right now, despite his t-shirt, "Of course I’m still alive. Could you imagine if I got killed by _one_ zombie? I’d be disappointed in myself, to be honest."

"Well, one demon had the power to do this, you must take it as a lesson." Takeo reprimanded, he wasn’t trying to talk down to the reckless marine, but more-so teach him to be more careful and aware, even if he thinks the coast is clear.

"Yeah, yeah." Dempsey waved him off, as Takeo expected, but he still took the message on board.

The American then started for the door, only for Richtofen to call him back, "Where are you going?"

"I just need to stretch my legs. I’m not gonna go outside, don’t worry," He drawled, disappearing out the door before Edward could respond.

The three watched him go, before Takeo and Nikolai turned to the doctor.

"How is he really doing?" The warrior asked.

Richtofen sighed, "I assume you’re not referring to just his physical health," Nikolai nodded for confirmation, "Well, in terms of the bite, as long as the stitches don’t get torn and the wound doesn’t get infected, it should heal over in due time, but it will scar. Same with the scratches on his chest. Mentally, well..." The doctor paused to collect his thoughts. What Dempsey had told him was private, and he trusted Richtofen enough to help him with that fear and allowed the doctor to keep him company while he rested. He wouldn’t betray that trust by outing his confessions to his other comrades, not until Tank told them himself. He wasn’t sure what to say to the two.

"I don’t think he is doing too well." Edward stated simply.

"Well, he seemed more like himself a few moments ago, " Nikolai pitched in, receiving a nod from Takeo.

Richtofen had a rough idea as to why, but he didn’t say it aloud, "I know, but part of me thinks it will not last."

"The best thing we can do is watch over him and see if he gets worse. If he does, then we can try and find ways to help him." Takeo concluded, "Now, we should all get rest, especially you, doctor."

Edward opened his mouth to protest, but the Japanese man shut him down instantly with a swift shake of his head, and pointed to the couch. The doctor mumbled under his breath but was grateful to be able to rest nonetheless. Now that he was laying down, he could feel how tired he really was and how much his body begged for the sweet grasp of sleep.

Nikolai and Takeo moved to another room to try and find some other surface to sleep on, leaving Richtofen all alone. He could briefly hear Takeo telling Dempsey they were all going to sleep, so he could keep watch, but not to be too loud. With a final yawn, the doctor closed his eyes and let himself drift.

Now that their base was quiet, Dempsey had only one question to preoccupy his mind.

Did Richtofen’s sole presence stop the entity from haunting him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy (late) new year lol. Trying to get back in the swing with my updates. 
> 
> Been writing this for 5 hours. It’s 2am. I’m tired. Af. 
> 
> Have some Nik and Tak time. Also, this chapter kind of acts as a filler? There will be more action + drama next chapter. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed, feedback is welcome, typos fixed soon i’m just posting then dipping. (Update: this chapter has been edited and is good to go ^^ probably should do that before I post, but oh well) 
> 
> New year’s resolution for 2020? TO FINISH THIS FIC. Hopefully!! However, I can't promise a schedule (because it stresses me out trying to stick to it) for my updates but I'm aiming to update at least 3 times a month. So I wrote this on the 7th, the next might be on the 14th, then 21st. Something like that. I'll try to aim for these days, but don't count on it lol.
> 
> Also, no lie, getting up too fast is like the worst sensation ever. Your vision goes all fuzzy and you feel so dizzy and I’ve fell over from it before. It’s not fun since I get it most times I get up after sitting/lying down for ages. But oh well.


	5. Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly heavy chapter ahead. 
> 
> Trigger warning: Talks about hearing voices in your head, if you feel uncomfortable/upset/triggered by that, please don’t read. My intention isn’t to upset anybody!

The following morning arrived quickly, much to Richtofen’s displeasure, as the blinding light of dawn seeped through the windows and straight into his eyes, coating his face in a warmth. Whilst the heat was welcomed, the sudden brightness was not. He groaned and turned his back towards the light, pressing his face further into the ruined couch, wrapping his arms around his form and shutting his eyes once more. It had been so long since the doctor had _actually_ rested, and now he never wanted to awaken again. He simply longed to bask in the warmth and relaxation forever.

He could hear the brief hum of voices outside the room, and a stifled muffled laughter, before the door creaked open, and Richtofen tried his hardest to remain still. Maybe, if he didn’t move and gave the impression he was in a deep sleep, they would give him more time to rest—Edward really didn’t feel like going out and facing the world today. The comfort he currently felt was already lulling him back to his dreamland.

Then something was prodding into his shoulder, a finger poking him. Once. And then twice, this time accompanied by a whisper in a thick Russian accent, "German, wake up," Nikolai already sounded annoyed that Richtofen had slept in, but the lack of response he received only fuelled him further as he grabbed Edward’s shoulders and gave him a thorough shake.

Richtofen abruptly awakened from the unexpected contact, mumbling something in German as he pushed Nikolai’s gloved hands away in a panic. He then sat up and blinked tiredly, rolling his shoulders, "Does nobody know how to wake people up nicely? First, Dempsey kicks me, und now you almost give me a heart attack! I’m asking Takeo to wake me up next time!" He groaned.

To his surprise, Nikolai laughed, "You will wake up to katana in your face." He then turned serious, "We need to move to look for supplies, we’re burning daylight waiting for you."

Edward rolled his eyes, "Danke Nikolai, maybe you should be the leader around here." He said sarcastically.

"Well, I would do a better job than you." His teammate responded, leaving the room shortly after.

Richtofen scowled at him as he followed him out.

_You have no idea what I face._

Outside, Dempsey and Takeo were perched in front of the door, waiting for them. Takeo looked up from cleaning his katana and sighed at how exhausted Richtofen looked, despite how long he had slept. They all needed to be awake and alert for the day ahead, they couldn’t suffer any more injuries.

"So, where are we heading today?" Tank asked.

"Anywhere that looks salvageable for the time being. We just need more supplies, but finding them is like trying to find a needle in a haystack," Richtofen grumbled, as he felt his stomach pang with a familiar emptiness, "Gott, when was the last time we ate? I could kill for a snack right now...Even if it’s out of date." He added under his breath.

"It’s been a week. At this rate, it won’t be the demons that kill us. It will be dehydration and starvation." Takeo commented bluntly, and it was true. The four of them had been low on supplies for a couple of weeks now—they were just about scraping by with the few remaining bullets and the odd bottle of water they shared if they found one. But food gave them the nutrition and energy they needed to have the strength to even _fight_ the demons, and the endless battle was getting harder every day; without that energy, they would be overwhelmed easily. The effect was already starting to show, too, all of them looked thinner and weaker than they did last week.

"We’re moving out of this city, then?" Nikolai asked.

"I assume you und Takeo searched for supplies yesterday, und if there was anything worthwhile here, you would’ve taken it. So yes, we will keep moving."

The question the other three wanted to ask hung heavily in the air. It was just a matter of who was going to ask it.

"...To where, exactly?" Dempsey questioned. Richtofen knew the marine detested following a plan he knew nothing about, and with recent events, tried to give him an answer that would ease his mind—when in actuality, the doctor didn’t even know himself.

"A more secure building for us to stay in. This," He gestured to the structure they currently inhabited, "Is barely holding itself together. We find a place with supplies, und a good place for refuge. Understood?" The three of them agreed. Richtofen went back into the other room and retrieved his nearly empty first aid kit, when a sudden realisation hit him. He then walked back to his group and tossed a set of bandages to Dempsey, who barely caught them.

He pointed at his neck, "Change them." The doctor ordered. Tank did so, peeling the old, bloodied ones off and tossing them away. He cringed as he covered the wound with the fabric, winding it around his throat and securing it comfortably. Once he had done so, and Edward had looked it over, the crew departed their overdue resting place.

It was a dull, grey morning compared to the vibrancy of yesterday’s colourful skies, but Dempsey tried to not let it sway his mood. Despite staying up for hours keeping watch for any undead, he felt better and lighter than he had in months, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. There was no longer the fear of falling asleep, as it had been proven that it was possible for him to avoid the entity—and dreaming, for that matter—altogether. It felt that shortly, he would be able to fall asleep peacefully like he had before, without troubles and without worries, without dread that the figure would pop up again.

Though it still perplexed him as to why he didn’t see the entity last night. He pondered this as he followed behind Takeo and Nikolai, tuned out of their conversation. Not to mention how quickly the figure had gone from menacing and cunning to wise and introspective. From making him squirm in fear, to giving him advice on how to find peace of mind—on how to not take his friends for granted. But why now? It’s not like he went through some drastic change in the past couple of days that could’ve warranted this switch in the entity, it seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Could it be because he opened up to Richtofen about his fears? Did that imply he took Edward for granted before?

No. Dempsey could never take any of them for granted—but maybe the shadow knew more than he did about his mental state. Was he so wrapped up in his own problems and worries, that he forgot to take care of the others around him? Was he being selfish? Possibly. Tank couldn’t tell you, yet he felt guilty, even if he hadn’t been. They needed him, like the entity said, ‘They are the light in the darkness,’ or something like that. They needed to help and care for eachother, and here the marine was, internally beating himself up about matters that may not even be true.

"—Don’t you agree, Dempsey?" Nikolai’s voice broke his train of thought, and he looked at the man sheepishly.

"Oh, uh, yeah." He agreed, even though he didn’t know what the conversation was actually about.

Takeo frowned, casting a fleeting look towards the other two, "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing, really." He lied, "Just tuned out, I guess."

He has to trust them, right? They’ll help him. That’s what the entity told him, he should take its advice. But no, he’s thinking about himself. Again. _Selfish, selfish, selfish._

Was he being tricked, to feel this way? To feel this regret and distaste towards himself, so he forgets about his own sanity, and becomes unhinged? He wasn’t being selfish...right?

_"Well, maybe you are smarter than I originally thought."_

Dempsey froze. His fingers, which were gripped around his pistol, relaxed and sent the gun to the ground with a loud clatter. His heart drummed in his chest rapidly, threatening to climb up his throat and choke him. _It was too loud, too loud, too loud._ He went rigid as his hands trembled, his body going into shutdown. His chest heaved with every panicked intake of breath he took, his lungs threatening to collapse inside his chest, like a weight was sitting atop his ribs, crushing him. It felt like his feet were glued into the concrete, unable to move in the robotic sequence, _left, right, left, right,_ like a soldier marching into battle. He was a soldier.

But he wasn’t. Soldiers aren’t afraid.

Soldiers don’t hear  _voices_ in their heads.

_"Ah, my apologies, how rude of me to just show up without telling you, my mistake. That must’ve given you quite the fright."_

He continued to shake and remained a deer in headlights to his teammates, who were now trying to get a response out of him. Something, anything, even if it was just the slightest slowing of rapid breathing.

"Dempsey, can you hear me?" Richtofen tried, placing his hands on his shoulders and gripping tightly to try and elicit a response. Nothing. The doctor tried to remain calm, as he was trained to be in situations like this, but he could feeling his heart too climbing up his throat. The situation was just too raw for him...It once again reminded him of himself. Dempsey had retreated into his mind; locked out of reality. Edward had seen this before. Had done this before. Richtofen whispered something in German sadly, he had made so much progress with the marine’s condition—with their friendship! He couldn’t lose him now.

_"Aw, can you see how much they care? What a shame you’ll never see that. Because you only care about yourself."_

Richtofen took a deep breath, trying to relax, "It’s me, it’s Edward," he swallowed down his emotions thickly, "I’m here, alright? So is Nikolai und Takeo, you just need to come back to us. _Scheisse_ —I just need you to give me _something_. Please." He begged.

Nothing. Not even the still of a shaking hand.

"Comrade? It is okay, you are okay, we are here." Nikolai said meekly, also trying to rouse a response from his teammate. If he thought Dempsey was bad before, this was a whole new level. He risked a glance towards Takeo, to find him with his eyes shut, presumably performing a silent prayer in his head for their catatonic friend.

The doctor let out an exasperated sigh, grabbing both of Dempsey’s hands and clutching them close to his chest, looking down into his wide-eyed stormy eyes. So empty, so gone. _"Dempsey, please."_

His finger twitched.

Richtofen gazed at him hopefully, grasping his hands tighter, desperately hoping for more movement.

The shaking of his hand gradually started to still, as did his pounding heart rate. Tank blinked once. Then again. His eyes began to focus on his surroundings, after just being able to see...a darkness. He wasn’t sure what it was—but he couldn’t see anything, he could only hear the entity’s voice and white noise. Now, he squinted at the form directly infront of him, a light, as the darkness faded from his vision.

"Dempsey, can you hear me?" Richtofen repeated, with more assertiveness this time, idly rubbing his thumb across the back of Dempsey’s palm.

"Y-yeah." He stammered quickly, shaking his head as he closed his eyes, "Just you..." Tank muttered, relieved he was back in control of his senses. When he reopened his eyes, he was aware of a warmth surrounding his hands, and it wasn’t from his gloves. He peeked down to see Edward holding them—treasuring them desperately, in his own. It felt comforting, and the touch briefly distracted him from the internal hell he’d just gone through. He focused on the shape and feel of the doctor’s surgical hands, how calloused they must be, elegant yet precise, with pinpoint accuracy to perform procedures; compared to his own, which were rougher, for the intent of handling a weapon—a soldier, fulfilling orders.

Soldiers don’t hear _voices_ in their head—

Richtofen watched the marine’s fascination with his hands in surprise, he expected for him to pull away instantly. But after a moment, much to Nikolai and Takeo’s relief, whom had been standing to the side awkwardly watching the ordeal, Dempsey did. Then he went still. Thinking.

"What happened back there?" Nikolai said, breaking the silence and eying his comrade up and down worriedly.

"I..." Well, what could he say? ‘Oh, I just heard voices in my head, guys, nothing to worry about!’? They’d worry even more. Evidently however, using the same excuses like, ‘I’m fine,’ or ‘It’s nothing’, were not going to be sufficient enough to give the other three peace of mind this time, if it ever did before.

Takeo looked at him wistfully.

"I think I just froze up," He attempted to keep his voice steady to mask the terror he was feeling, "I don’t know why."

"People do not just have breakdowns for no reason, Dempsey," Takeo said knowingly, "Something must’ve triggered that response in you."

"I don’t even know what triggered _that_." He denied.

The warrior narrowed his eyes, "I think you’re lying to me. You do know, but you think you’re better off not telling us, because you don’t want us to be concerned or worried about it." He said, "Or to think that you’re weak."

Dempsey couldn’t maintain eye contact with Takeo for long, he averted his gaze and remained silent. He didn’t know what to say when his friend had just outed the truth. Tank knew he was a very pensive and insightful person, but he didn’t know he had picked up on his behaviour that easily. It comforted him to know he cared that much, yet he also felt guilty.

"Judging by your silence, I assume I’m correct," The warrior carried on, returning with a softer tone, "Dempsey, if you tell us what happened, or what causedit, we can help you. We can’t help if we don’t know."

"Takeo is right," Nikolai said, "We can help you, comrade. You’re not alone, and we don’t want this to get worse." He placed a reassuring hand on the American’s shoulder.

"Worse?" Tank inquired hoarsely.

"Your behaviour has been different as of lately," Richtofen began to explain, "It’s strange. You were injured, and you didn’t tell us—"

"I didn’t think it was a priority—"

"You always told me about your wounds before, yet when one is life-threatening, you avoided informing me about it."

Dempsey remained silent.

"I thought that you were becoming your usual self yesterday," Edward said, "But just because someone is depressed doesn’t mean they can’t have happy days."

"I’m not depressed," Dempsey stated flatly.

"I know you’re not, it’s just an expression. What I’m saying is, even though yesterday was one of your better days, I still think you’re unwell."

Tank scoffed, trying not to let his pride get hurt too much, "With what? I don’t have the _common cold_ , doc." His voice was filled with sarcasm.

"I mean mentally, Dempsey. Me, Nikolai and Takeo have all noticed it."

"You guys are making a big deal out of nothing, I’m fine. _Physically and mentally_." He mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets. _I don’t want to talk about it, I don’t want to talk about it._

He could feel his emotions boiling inside.

"Like Takeo mentioned, I think there’s something you’re not telling me, Tank." Edward spoke strongly. "You need t—"

"I don’t know what’s happening okay?!" Dempsey yelled, throwing his arms in the air as his bottled up feelings came pouring out, "All I know is every time, every _fucking_ time I go to sleep, I’m not in this world. I’m somewhere else, with this...entity, that talks to me. And I can’t get out, I can’t escape—and he knows everything. Fuck, he even told me about you guys—and I can’t leave, until I either get woken up, or he _lets me leave._ You know why I wasn’t this fucked up yesterday?" He gave a laugh devoid of all humour, "Because I didn’t _see_ him last night."

Richtofen was at a loss for words, "T-That’s great—"

"But I heard him today." Dempsey said coldly.

Nikolai spoke quietly, "What do you mean?"

"You wanna know why I froze up? Because I have _voices_ in my head, Nikolai. I could hear him, calling me selfish, and if I really tune out now, I still can." Tank spoke with an emptiness Richtofen fought not to acknowledge, it hurt too much, "So, you’re right, Tak. I am fucking lying. And you know why? ‘Cause it’s better for me to be ‘fine’ to you guys, when in reality I’m losing my goddamn mind—...I’m actually going insane. Holy shit." He said the last part in surprise, like it had only just occurred to him how bad he’d truly became.

The abrupt screams of the undead resonated through the city walls, and Edward quickly thrust the pistol into Dempsey’s hands, "Fight now, talk later. Stay infront of us."

Tank peered down at the pistol with a deep intensity, his anger diminishing and being replaced with fear and guilt and pain and sadness—

"No, no, I can’t do this—" The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, his fingers shaking around the trigger.

Richtofen pressed the gun into his chest, "Yes, Dempsey, you can. We’re here. We will get your through this." Dempsey wanted to believe him. He really did.

Takeo and Nikolai agreed, standing on either side of the American to protect his flank. Tank couldn’t help but feel useless. Where was that badass marine he used to be?

_"Now you’re just a burden to them."_

The rage returned and fuelled him to take out his knife and reload his pistol, "No, I’m not."

Richtofen was about to respond when he realised he wasn’t talking to him. He was talking to the voice in his head. He was defying it.

The zombies swarmed down the road infront of them, and Richtofen made quick work of the ones at the front, ending them with a swift bullet to the forehead. As he turned to reload however, one grabbed his pistol and tried to bite his wrist. The straggler was quickly yanked off him and he turned to find Dempsey stabbing it in the face with his knife. Edward gave him a small grateful smile, but it wasn’t returned. Tank was emotionless as he spun around and fired his pistol through a line of three zombies, their blood spraying in the sky and landing on him as one bullet ripped through their brains.

Takeo sliced four zombies that had attempted to sneak up on them, severing their bodies in half and sending their limbs crashing to the ground in a thick, red splat. Nikolai covered the warrior, blasting two undead in the chest with his shotgun. The Russian looked forward again to find Dempsey infront of him, a zombie running towards him, but he made no effort to kill it. Nikolai couldn’t risk shooting his shotgun out of fear he would hit his comrade, so he slung the weapon on his back and took out his axe, sending it spiralling towards the mindless corpse, cutting its head in half.

Blood splattered onto Tank’s face and he watched it fall to the ground. Lifeless.

The Russian caught up with him and shook his shoulder, "Get your head in the game, Tank."

He didn’t react. He’d shutdown again. Nikolai cursed, and was about to call Richtofen over when a vast horde flanked them from all sides. Edward called out an opening amongst the masses and Takeo followed behind him, unbeknownst to Nikolai and Dempsey’s situation, slicing at any undead in their way to get away from the enclosing death trap. As Nikolai was about to follow however, he noticed Dempsey still wasn’t moving.

If the Russian left his comrade now, he would catch up to Richtofen and Takeo. But Dempsey would be left to a gruelling fate; with how many there was, he would be ripped apart in seconds, cut in half, then quarters, it would be a horrific way to die. Nikolai could never do that, and as the gap to follow the other two closed, he made his decision. He grabbed Tank’s wrist and went in the opposite direction to the doctor and the warrior, dragging him away from the horde and shooting at any zombies in his way.

Nikolai knew he wouldn’t be able to drag Tank along any longer, and noticed a tall collapsed building to his left. There was rubble blocking the door, and Nikolai pushed it out of the way before shoving his friend inside and killing some of the horde that had followed him, picking up the rubble and blocking the door with it once more. He shoved broken pieces of furniture next to the door to further strengthen the blockade, and it seemed to work as the Russian could only hear the scratching of unkempt nails against concrete, they would be safe for now.

Nikolai turned to his struggling friend, who was angrily saying over and over again "It’s my fault,", seemingly in some sort of loop. He didn’t seem to be aware of his comrade even being present, but Nikolai attempted to speak to him anyway.

"It’s not your fault, Dempsey," He said.

"Yes it is." Tank deadpanned. "If I hadn’t had—damnit, we should be with Tak and Richtofen right now!" He leaned his forehead against the wall, closing his eyes, "I’m such a fucking burden."

"No you are not. Our life is not easy, Tank, things like this happen. You are only human, you don’t need to act like you have to do everything yourself. There is no ‘I’ in team. We’re here to help you, so that’s what I did."

"And we got separated from Tak and Ed because of it."

"Don’t blame yourself. That’s not going to make you feel or get you any better. We need to think positively!" Nikolai grinned, "So, for one, we’re still alive. Two, we still have each other—"

Dempsey’s shoulders slumped and he sniffled. "I get you’re trying to make me feel better, Nik, but—"

"And three, we will find Takeo and Richtofen and rejoin with them, da?"

Another sniffle.

Nikolai approached his distressed friend, pulling him away from the wall and into his arms. Truthfully, the Russian had never been good at comforting anybody, but the marine looked like he could use the reassurance that they were indeed here to support him, as words weren’t convincing enough. Dempsey remained stiff at first, as if he couldn’t believe Nikolai was smothering him in a bear hug, but he eventually buried his head into his shoulder and wrapped his arms around him too. He felt Nikolai rest his chin on his head, and he closed his eyes, hoping that when he opened them again, he would feel better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg i nearly stuck to my schedule. i’m just 1hr 12 mins into 15th aww, close enough. 
> 
> anyway. its 1am. y’know the drill for typos and shit.
> 
> also #bromance and #romance


End file.
